


MVP

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Arguing, Gun Puns, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Tension, phallic symbols
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly rivalry between two proud men with drastically different combat roles turns into something far more suggestive.  When Heavy and Sniper argue, the big guns are already out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MVP

“I stood on point, held point! Killed tiny babies who try to take point from me!” Heavy fumed, pointing at the floor to indicate the ground he claimed to stand. The hallway to the locker room was long and cool, air-conditioned against the desert heat. Several fluorescent lights overhead had flickered to death long ago, unreplaced due to general lack of caring from the base's residents. And a distinct lack of ladders for those who did care. Bootfalls _clump_ ed heavily through the empty hall, the two men striding down it coming to an abrupt halt, their conversation having gained a heat of its own.

Sniper leaned back from the giant in front of him, a bemused smirk on his lips. “Yeh, I know. I was coverin' the point and the approach the whole time. You know how many BLUs I picked off before they could even get to ya? Took out their bloody Engineer three times 'afore could set up a nest. And the Medic for that last Heavy you dropped. Didn't even get to kick his charge. Out in the open like that you were a sittin' duck. Weren't for me an' the Doc watchin' your arse you'd've been ventilated. I aced their Sniper a few times good before he got the idea to move. Stupid twat.”

“Twenty five men. Twenty five lives. Twenty five times, Sascha tore tiny men to meat vapor. I destroy all before me.”

“Aced five Heavies alone. Not countin' those Engineers, Snipers, the Medic, a few Scouts, need I go on? Plus, my kills are clean.” Removing his sunglasses, Sniper tucked them into his shirt pocket with a smug grin.

Heavy chewed on his words before releasing them, seeing the satisfied look on his teammate's face and wanting to punch it off. “Clean. Ha. Sascha is effective. I am effective. Do not need to be clean to kill tiny cowards. Are not going to have tea party in desert. Clean means nothing on battlefield.”

“Clean means a lot when yer wastin' bullets hittin' blokes a third of the time. My rifle is efficient.”

“Spend so much time fondling rifle, am surprised you kill any men at all.”

“I like to take my time. Do it right. Not hurry to make a mess everywhere like you, mate. I've got the skill to finish the job right.” Cocking his hips forward, Sniper locked eyes with Heavy.

The giant snorted. “Take it slow is boring. What is skill without excitement?”

“Excitement comes from knowing what you're doing. You have to be proficient first.”

“What is proficient, hiding away in battlement? Nobody get to see your glory.”

“Doesn't matter who sees it. The one it's meant for, 'e _feels_ it.”

“Is no doubt men feel it when I work. I have very, very big gun.” Heavy's words spread a predatory grin across his handsome features, stepping forward to close the distance between them.

Sniper's eyes flicked down to the giant's groin, to the bulge beginning to tent his trousers. He licked his lips. “You got the staying power to last, with all that sound and fury?”

“Have _lots_ of ammunition.”

The wall slammed into Sniper's back with force enough to knock the air from his lungs, into Heavy's. Pinned against the side of the hallway, the bushman wrapped his arms around the shoulders of the giant against him, lips crushed together, tongues immediately seeking each other to begin their battle anew. Voracious grunts and snarls escaped both men as they pawed at one another, massive hands gripping Sniper's thin frame while his long fingers clawed at Heavy's back, tugging his t-shirt up and exposing bare flesh, sticky from the battle's sweat, matting dark, soft hair down against his skin. Hips rolled against each other, barely-contained need straining against clothing so very much in the way of their furious rutting.

Finally parting, panting, grinning at each other, Sniper was the first to find his voice. Nodding his head in the direction they'd been heading, the showers, he licked his lips again and met Heavy's eyes. “So, 's this going somewhere? Or am I goin' to be spendin' another night cleanin' my rifle?”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Tumblr user TF2shitfest


End file.
